


Parent-Teacher Conference

by KagSesshlove



Series: Grade School [10]
Category: Batman - All Media Types, DCU
Genre: Gen, also there are sandwiches, batbros, batfam, but nothing goes wrong, but surprisingly nothing goes wrong, dick is conflicted, dick is still disappointed, jason apparently learned nothing from christmas, nothing gets resolves, so there's therapy, there's a conference
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-19
Updated: 2017-02-19
Packaged: 2018-09-25 14:46:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,442
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9825113
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KagSesshlove/pseuds/KagSesshlove
Summary: Imagine that Damian goes to a regular school full time. And has to do things that normal grade-schoolers have to do. Like have Parent-Teacher Conferences.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I don’t own anything.
> 
> Warnings: Contains the most precious individual in the world.
> 
> Note: This really wasn’t supposed to be this long. But then the therapy sessions happened. Therapy sessions. Therapy.

“I can skip the meeting,” Bruce said, frowning slightly as he examined the email Damian’s school had just sent him.

Dick shook his head, lounging back in the chair. “You promised Tim you’d be there.”

“I can reschedule.”

“Uh… Haven’t you already rescheduled this meeting like, 5 times? There was this weird vein in Tim’s forehead the last time you did that; you know he takes R&D really seriously.”

Bruce sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “It’s a parent-teacher conference, Dick. I’m supposed to come off as irresponsible, not neglectful.”

Dick grimaced slightly. “I really don’t see how you’re going to swing this, B. Maybe you can just… pretend you didn’t get the email. That sounds like a good plan, honestly.”

Dick was being completely serious. Parent-teacher conferences? That was just a disaster waiting to happen. Bruce would have to sit there and try to come up with different explanations for Damian’s behavior; he was a good liar, but he wasn’t _that_ good. No one was that good.

Bruce snorted. “I’d love to. But this has to be dealt with somehow. And there doesn’t seem to be any way to _prevent_ Damian’s… outbursts.”

Dick cringed. “He’s been good since break ended.”

Bruce shot him a look. It read somewhere between “It’s only a matter of time” and “I’m _still_ not over it”.

( _Way to hold a grudge, Bruce.)_

Which… wasn’t exactly a surprise. Or unfair.

“So, what are you going to do?” Dick asked.

Bruce didn’t get to answer – though Dick doubted he actually _had_ an answer – because the door to his office swung open.

Tim strolled in with a terrifyingly large stack of paper. Somehow, it was stapled.

“Did you build an industrial stapler or something?” Dick asked, scooting his chair away from the stack when Tim dropped it onto the desk.

He didn’t want any part in that.

Tim rolled his eyes. “I had R&D make one months ago. Speaking of R&D. This is the report we’re going to be going over. You need to read this before the meeting next week.”

Bruce looked at the monstrosity sitting on his desk and then back at Tim. He looked over at Dick. This was an unmistakable “I need to get out of this meeting” look. Dick fully supported this endeavor.

But he definitely wasn’t going to help.

Tim had been muttering about WE developments and proposals for the past… well, he was always muttering about them intermittently, but, lately, he had been muttering _vehemently_.

Tim narrowed his eyes and looked between the two of them. “Is Bruce dying? Are you dying, Bruce?” Tim’s voice was light, which was the biggest tipoff there was; Tim didn’t do _light._

“No, Tim, but-“

“He’s really excited for the meeting and he can’t control his enthusiasm!” Dick interrupted.

Bruce looked betrayed.

Tim looked judgmental but willing to play along if it got him what he wanted.

“Really? That’s good. I’m happy you’re excited, Bruce. I’m excited too.”

He didn’t _sound_ excited.

Bruce was making that weird face he always made when he was faced with his children’s expectations if said expectations had nothing to do with vigilante-work.

“That’s… good, Tim. I’ll… read this.”

“Uh-huh.”

Tim backed out of the room, looking at both of them with an unhealthy dose of skepticism. That was really Bruce’s fault for making them so cynical.

Bruce turned to him as soon as Tim had closed the door. He raised an eyebrow.

“You can’t keep putting Tim off forever,” Dick said with a purposefully casual shrug – Bruce would see through it, but he tried it anyway – to hide his own guilt that he doubted would ever go away.

Tim tended to get shunted off to the side more than any of the others – being the least open with his feelings made it easier to forget he had them. Dick hated thinking about it.

Bruce frowned, regretful, his thoughts obviously following the same vein. “So, what about the conference?”

Dick hesitated. “I can do it?”

It wasn’t that he didn’t want to help. It was just… all the phone calls. All the phone calls. And now he had to deal with it in person? He was basically going to be spending his entire time apologizing for every time Damian had ever looked at her.

Bruce cocked an eyebrow.

“I can!” Dick asserted. “I’ve dealt with her before; I can definitely handle this.”

“Can you?”

“Okay, now you’re treating me the way Tim treats you and no one deserves to be treated like that.”

Bruce pursed his lips and shook his head. “If you’re sure.”

“I totally am. Trust me. I’ve handled bigger things than parent teacher conferences. I’ve got this. Promise.”

* * *

 

Dick smiled, holding his hand out. “Nice to meet you in person, Ms. Andrews. Dick Grayson.”

Her smile was strained. “Stacy.”

“Dick.”

They stood there staring at each other, nodding and shaking hands for way longer than necessary. Dick was starting to get uncomfortable. Ms. Andrews already looked well past uncomfortable.

( _We’re off to a great start.)_

Dick cleared his throat. “So, Stacy...”

She nodded again. “Oh! Please, sit!”

He nodded at her and sat down. Okay, Dick really needed to put this back on the rails; it shouldn’t even have been off the rails in the first place. They had only been there for 2 minutes. “So. Damian.”

She twitched, seemingly involuntarily. That was a good sign. No. A _great_ sign.

“Yes. Damian,” she repeated.

Wow. She looked like she was having flashbacks right now. That was just… so wonderful.

Dick coughed. “Well, uh, I’ve seen his report cards. He’s doing great. Really great. Straight As in everything.”

“I- well, yes. He’s an excellent student. He turns in all his work on time and it’s always done perfectly, no matter what the assignment is.”

Dick grinned. He could work with this. “Yeah, he’s super smart! And that writing assignment – about family. It was so good! It was kind of the last thing I was expecting, and the only reason he wrote it is because he’s in school, so I’m just really glad. It seems like school’s really good for him.”

Okay, that last bit was an exaggeration; he got in as much trouble in school as he did on the streets – maybe more. But that paper had been _really_ good. And his goal was to distract from Damian’s problems, so…

Well he wasn’t actually sure if that was what Bruce had had in mind, but that’s what Dick was going for.

Stacy was grimacing. “Yes. About that. I feel like that paper is sort of- it sort of… exemplifies a lot of the problems that Damian seems to be having.”

( _Here it comes.)_

“‘Problems’?” Dick asked weakly.

He didn’t know why he was so nervous. He knew what was coming. He could handle this.

“Uh… Yes. Well, as I’m sure you’re aware, Damian has been showing increasingly worrying behavior as the year progressed. The, uh, lying. The disrespect. His antisocial tendencies. His paranoia. His… violent reactions. But the paper he wrote is something of a climax. I’m worried for… him.”

Dick honestly felt like his body was in a permanent state of cringing. And there was nothing he could do to stop it.

He was also pretty sure Stacy had changed “for him” from “for my life”.

“I… don’t think you need to be worried about anything, Stacy,” Dick tried, smiling at her.

“I’m sure you don’t,” she responded, rearranging the papers on her desk. “However, the paper shows a fixation with death, mentioned primarily in the form of murder. I’m just afraid Damian might have some type of… psychopathy. Have you considered counseling?” she suggested, shrugging her shoulders and smiling tentatively.

Dick smiled at her a little bit.

He wasn’t upset. He wasn’t. He was _handling_ this conference, and, therefore, responding the way a mature adult would.

Okay.

He was kind of pissed.

But with good reason!

Sure, Damian was a little strange compared to other kids his age, but that didn’t mean he was a psychopath – he wasn’t a psychopath! And he didn’t need counseling.

Well, everyone in the family probably needed counseling, but that was beside the point.

And what teacher said that one of their students was psychopathic and suggested counseling?

Well, a teacher concerned for her wellbeing and the wellbeing of all the other students.

But still!

Dick very deliberately didn’t take a deep breath, making sure not to show any tension he might or might not be feeling.

“He might have a few problems with anger management, but we’re dealing with it.”

By setting him on the street to terrorize criminals.

And it was working, too.

Not counting Tim, Damian hadn’t attacked anyone he hadn’t thought to be a criminal since that incident with the kid who had been bullying him. And _that_ had been a completely legitimate reaction.

Stacy’s smile became tighter, more strained. “Well that’s… good. But, I just think there might be deeper, underlying problems behind his anger and violent outbursts. In his essay, he talks about having ‘plans’ to get rid of someone. And stabbing another of your brothers? And training his pets to attack!”

“He’s joking! He doesn’t actually mean it.”

She didn’t look like she believed him at all, which was fair because he was lying. Regardless of that, Dick really felt like it was better to end this conference sooner rather than later. It wasn’t that he didn’t understand where she was coming from – Tim and the others called Damian “Demon” half the time. It was just he didn’t appreciate hearing it – or the implications behind it – from anyone else.

It wasn’t a pleasant experience.

It was, in fact, very _un_ pleasant.

“I know this must be hard to hear, Dick, but I think you should really take it into consideration – maybe get Damian… checked out. It would be good for him.”

And she was being so sincere that he really didn’t have any right to be upset with her.

( _But here we are.)_

“That’s… good advice, Stacy. And, you know, I think I’ll talk to Bruce about it. See what he thinks,” he said, nodding and smiling and standing up because he was totally done here.

“Oh, but, there’s actually still a bit more to discuss; I’d like to go in depth-“

“That would be wonderful and I’d love to, but I actually have to head back. Sorry about that. It was good to meet you, Stacy, and I’ll definitely talk to Bruce about it. See what we can do. Thank you, so much, for just… being a good teacher!”

And he did mean that last part; she hadn’t transferred, and everyone had had money riding on it at one point.

She nodded, mouth hanging open slightly. “Yes, of course. Thank you for coming.”

He smiled and winked at her before turning on his heel and striding out of the room, releasing a breath as soon as he closed the door.

He nodded to himself.

“I hate parent-teacher conferences.”

* * *

 

Damian cocked an eyebrow when Grayson walked in the room. He looked… bothered.

“I didn’t realize those meetings took so much time; Father even made it back before you,” Damian said, gesturing to where the man was sitting at the table, looking over reports with Drake.

“I was driving,” Grayson replied.

Definitely agitated.

“Are we going to get a call from the school?” Todd joked, trying to steal a sandwich from Damian’s plate.

Damian scowled. “Get your own, Todd.”

“I’m trying to.”

“Not from my-“

“That woman!” Grayson began, sounding unreasonably impassioned. “She called Damian a psychopath! Can you believe that? An actual grown woman whose job it is to teach and guide and care for children called Damian, one of her students, a psychopath! To my face!”

“Tt. I don’t remember telling you she was smart, Grayson.”

Father sighed heavily, looking up from his papers. “I don’t know why I let you go.”

Todd snickered. “That’s hilarious. Messed up, and completely expected, but mostly hilarious.” He sighed. “Good old Stacy. I’m surprised she hasn’t had a breakdown yet.”

“Are you sure she hasn’t?” Drake asked dryly. “Damian’s not a psychopath. He’s obviously a sociopath. There’s a difference. And if she’s going to go around giving a false diagnosis, we should probably see about taking away donations from the school. What are we paying them for if their teachers aren’t even well-educated?”

“That’s what I’ve been saying this whole time, Drake,” Damian grumbled.

“You are _all_ missing the point,” Grayson asserted.

“No, no, I don’t think we are,” Todd countered, reaching for Damian’s plate again.

“I told you to get your own!” Damian exclaimed, slapping Todd’s hand away with a glare.

Todd ignored him. “I mean, how much are you guys donating to the school?”

“Too much,” Drake complained. “We’re hemorrhaging money. I mean, it doesn’t really hurt in the long run, but a lot of that money could be going towards something useful.”

“But they’re kind of like reparations, aren’t they? I mean, they have to deal with Damian.”

“If we don’t get reparations, neither should they.”

“And what do we get for dealing with you, Drake?”

“Okay, you’re all missing the point. Still. Bruce! She recommended counseling!”

“I’m not seeing a therapist!”

“Obviously not,” Drake said with a sneer. “We’re not trying to get sued for emotional damages. I don’t want to have to deal with another Arkham inmate because you traumatized someone.”

“Oh, please, Drake, if they’re that easy to traumatize, they belong in Arkham.”

“I’m going interrupt here and say that’s not how that works.”

“No one cares about your opinion, Todd.”

“He’s actually got a point, Jason.”

Damian scowled. Agreeing with Drake twice in the span of five minutes?

( _Grayson should keep his problems to himself.)_

“You are all ignoring me, aren’t you?”

“Yes,” Damian agreed.

“Yep,” Drake mumbled.

“Oh, definitely,” Todd asserted with a shrug, reaching for Damian’s plate again.

“I told you to get your own!”

“You’re not going to eat all of that!”

“Yes, I am!”

“No, you’re not! You’ve been sitting at the table in front of your food for the past half hour.”

“So?”

“Boys,” Father interrupted, sounding pained.

Life with Todd would do that to a person.

“Tell him to share his sandwiches!”

“Make your own!”

“Seriously?” Drake asked. “Are you arguing over sandwiches right now? I’m actually doing serious work-“

“Actually, I’m pretty sure you’re trying to allocate company resources to make tech that taps into peoples’ nervous system, so…”

Drake scoffed. “Please. I don’t need to _try_ to do that.”

“Tim, please,” Father asked tiredly.

“Okay, you know what?” Grayson asked. “You’re all terrible people.”

“Well, now you’re victim-blaming,” Todd stated.

Grayson stared at Todd with a strangely blank look on his face. “You know what, I’m done with you all. Bruce, you’re useless. Next time, you get to go to the conference.”

“I wanted to; you’re the one who told me to go to the meeting.”

“So, you tried to get out of it?”

“Tim-“

“Yes, yes, he did, Tim,” Grayson interjected. “In fact, you should give Bruce that look you give Jason whenever he does something that proves him to be your biggest disappointment.”

“That look doesn’t exist because I’ve never disappointed anyone ever in my life,” Todd said.

“You breathe, don’t you?” Damian snarked.

“Mmm… actually, that look is reserved solely for Jason, but, since you asked, Dick, I can adapt a version for Bruce.”

“You dropped a mass of papers on my desk,” Father griped.

“Stapled, well-divided, perfectly organized papers. I spent 7 hours typing up that report, Bruce.”

“It was a good report-“

“Change the conversation; this one is boring. Dick, what else did she say?”

Damian sighed and took a bite of his sandwich, shaking his head. They were all insane – and very likely driving his father insane with them.

“She said he had a ‘fixation with death’ and-“

“Nope. That’s true. And boring. Move on. What are we going to _do_ about this?”

“We’re not taking away donations. Or getting her fired,” Father ordered, leveling a stern look at all of them.

( _Why is he looking at me?)_

“I don’t have anything to do with this!”

“You have everything to do with this,” Drake claimed.

“I don’t want her fired! It was just upsetting. Someone should be upset with me!” Grayson shouted.

“‘With you’?” Todd questioned, grinning.

“Are you- are you correcting my grammar right now? Seriously, Jay?”

“Hey, Demonbrat needs to get a good education, and his teachers aren’t up to par. Right, Tim?”

“There’s a difference between being a psychopath and a sociopath. It’s quite distinct; actually, it wouldn’t be a bad idea to do a case study separating villains based on the psychological-“

“Shut up, Tim. You’re being a nerd; it’s embarrassing.”

Damian snorted, sneering in response to Drake’s glare.

Todd snapped his fingers. “I’m a genius.”

“Debatable,” Drake quipped.

“Don’t lie about yourself, Todd; it reeks low self-esteem.”

“Why are you a genius, Jason?” Father asked warily, redirecting the conversation.

Todd smirked. “We’re going to put Damian in therapy.”

“Have you lost your mind, Todd?”

( _Though I doubt he ever had it.)_

“No,” Father said.

“That is a horrible idea!” Grayson cried.

“Do _you_ need therapy?” Drake asked.

Which was probably the case, though Todd would never admit it.

Todd rolled his eyes. “Not real therapy; we’re supposed to be protecting the innocents of Gotham, not hurting them. I meant _family_ therapy.”

“No,” Father repeated.

“That sounds like a disaster,” Grayson asserted.

“That much heavily concentrated trauma would probably just make things worse.”

“You’re an idiot, Todd.”

“No, you’re all idiots. Like, depressingly slow, actually. I’m starting to have doubts about all of you. I didn’t mean _group_ therapy. I meant _family_ therapy. The brat should get shrinked. By us.”

Damian stared at Todd incredulously. “Have you had any recent head trauma that we’re unaware of?”

“No,” Father repeated.

“Are we recording this?” Drake asked, sounding vaguely interested.

“Obviously.”

“That… actually sounds like a good idea,” Grayson started. “We can all sit down with him and talk to him. Give him some advice. And it might help him at school.”

“No,” Father repeated.

“Do I get a say in this?” Damian groused.       

“No,” Todd replied.

“Does everybody have to do it?”

“This is actually a really good idea, Jason!”

“Don’t sound so surprised, Dick. It hurts. Also, yes, Tim. You have to take a turn.”

“No,” Father repeated, but, at this point, he mostly sounded resigned.

“I won’t sit down with Drake!”

“But you’ll sit down with the rest of us?” Grayson asked eagerly.

“I never said that!”

“You have to sit down with everyone; you’ll hurt Tim’s feelings otherwise.” Todd was grinning obnoxiously.

“No, he won’t.”

Damian threw a sandwich at Todd.

“Oh, so now you’re sharing?”

“I’m not sharing, Todd! It was an act of aggression!”

“You threw a sandwich at me? Seriously? That’s weak, Damian.”

“I’m not sitting down with him,” Drake insisted.

“You have to, Timmy! It’s for Damian’s own good!”

“No,” Father repeated. There was no force in his tone by this point.

Damian shot him a look; he should be trying harder to stop this.

“No, this is a joke that Jason’s playing. I’m all for it – I’ll even supply the cameras. But I’m _not_ doing this.”

“Timmy! You have too!”

“You’re a grown man, Dick. Don’t whine. And I’m not doing it.”

“Timmy!”

“Yeah, Timmy. You have to.”

“Jason, I will cut you.”

“So, he can do it, but not me? Favoritism, Tim. I’m hurt and a little disappointed.”

“I’m not doing this!”

Damian was ignored. Though Father did shrug at him in what Damian assumed was commiseration. It really wasn’t enough.

( _He should be ending this.)_

“Timmy!”

“Timmy!”

“Timmy!”

“Timmy!”

“I will murder you both!”

“Tim.”

“Timmers.”

“Timmy.”

“Babybird.”

“You gotta’.”

“You _gotta_ ’.”

“I’m going to kill myself.”

“Finally admitting to it, Drake? Want any help?”

“Tiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiim.”

“Tiiiiiiiiiiiiiimmmmmmmmmmmmmers!”

“Tiiiiiiiiiiiiiiimmmmmmmmmmmmmyyyyyyyyyyy!”

“Tiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiim!”

“You gooooooooootttttttttttttttta’!”

“Fine! Just- will you both shut up so I can get this work done?”

“You’re an embarrassment and you should have held out until your death, Drake. Or theirs.”

“Oh, shut up. You know you’re doing this right?”

Damian scowled. “Father.”

His father just sighed and shook his head. “I want everyone coming out of this no less sane than they went in.”

“Father!”

“No promises, B.”

“This is going to help, Bruce. I can tell.”

“As if we could get any worse.”

Damian sighed heavily, glaring at all of them. “Give me back my sandwich, Todd.”

“It’s mine now, you threw it at me.”

“That doesn’t count with food!”

“If it counts with knives, it counts with food!”

“Jason! Give Dami back his sandwich.”

“It’s _my_ sandwich!”

“It’s mine!”

“I hope one of you chokes on that sandwich.”

“Tim. Please.”

“I’ll force this sandwich down your throat, Drake.”

“You can’t do anything with my sandwich unless you ask, Damian. But I’ll lend it to you for the sake of tormenting Tim.”

Damian rolled his eyes but snatched his sandwich back from Todd’s outstretched hand. He took a bite from it viciously.

Drake looked at him suspiciously. “If you try to shove that down my throat after biting it… I’ll end you. I swear.”

“Please. As if I’d waste a sandwich on you, Drake.”

“Are you serious? I gave that to you in trust! I thought we bonded! Give the sandwich back!”

“No!”

“Seriously, guys?” Grayson exclaimed. “It’s a sandwich! Why do you all care about the sandwich that much?”

“It’s mine.”

“Alfred made it.”

“I don’t want anything to do with the stupid sandwich.”

“Ugh.”

“Look! You’re giving Bruce a headache.”

“You’re all giving me a headache,” Father said, standing up. “I’m going to my office to finish going over these, Tim. And since I know I can’t stop you from taking the videos, make sure you keep them _private._ ”

“I will,” Drake said, sighing.

Father nodded and left the kitchen.

Grayson shrugged and grinned. “I’ll go round up the girls. Library?”

“I’ll set up the cameras,” Drake said, grabbing his papers and standing up.

Grayson stuck his tongue out.

“Grown man,” Drake responded.

Damian scowled at them on their way out. Then he scowled at Todd. “This is your idiotic idea, and when it inevitably goes wrong, I’ll remind you of that.”

“Uh, it’s brilliant, actually. And when it inevitably goes wrong, I’ll be blaming you.”

This was probably going to end horribly, one way or another, but…

“I got the sandwich,” Damian pointed out.

“Brat.”

Damian smirked.

* * *

 

Dick grinned when Damian walked into the library. Granted, Damian didn’t look all that happy to see him, but he would feel better after they finished.

Dick was honestly a little disappointed in himself for not thinking of this sooner. Sure, Jason was joking around with this, but Dick was taking it seriously. This might be a really good opportunity for Damian to work out any school-related aggression.

And then, maybe, Dick wouldn’t have to field any more calls from the school.

Dick hadn’t known that was his dream, but, yes. Apparently, it was.

At this point, he was just sad that Bruce hadn’t decided to join in.

Damian sighed and sat down on the couch on front of him. “Let’s get this over with, Grayson. And get that creepy grin of your face.”

“I’m trying to give you the authentic therapy experience, Damian. Lie down. Go on.”

Damian shot him a skeptical look, but gave in with only perfunctory grumbling. Dick knew better than to think he was coming around. He just wanted to get finished faster.

“So,” Dick started, clasping his hands together. “Damian. What do you think about school?”

The look Damian shot Dick was full of contempt; Dick refused to let it deter him. He was determined to at least work through _some_ of Damian’s problems with school.

He wouldn’t survive anymore phone calls. He wouldn’t.

Dick smiled encouragingly and nodded his head. “This is a safe space, Damian. No judgement.”

He narrowed his eyes. “You know that they’re watching, don’t you?”

Dick pouted. “Okay. So, a semi safe space. With no judgement in the immediate area.”

Damian rolled his eyes. “Right.”

“So, Damian, tell me: school.”

“It’s one of the least secure facilities I’ve ever come across, the people are stupid, the classes are pointless, and it’s an overall waste of time.”

( _Not encouraging, but not surprising.)_

“Well, Damian, I want to get you to see school differently-“

“Why are you talking like that? You sound ridiculous,” Damian groused.

Dick sighed. “Authentic experience. Now, close your eyes and imagine yourself in school. Sitting at your desk. Surrounded by your classmates. Looking at your teacher.”

“You sound like a fool.”

“Dami,” Dick pleaded, slumping slightly. “Please?”

“Tt. Fine.”

“Good. Thank you! Now, tell me how that makes you _feel_ \- eyes closed!”

“I’m going to kill, Todd.”

“Focus, Little D. School. Feelings. Go. But take your time.”

Damian scowled. “It’s annoying.”

“Good, that’s _good._ Why is it annoying?”

“The students are naïve – even some of the adults are. And my teacher thinks she knows better than me, when she’s clearly doesn’t. She acts like she can tell me what to do, but she has no right. She acts like she can teach me something I don’t already know, which isn’t true. And she acts like I’m like the rest of them, and I’m not.”

Dick nodded, a pained smile gracing his face. He was glad Damian had his eyes closed. “Right. So. Basically, you don’t like your teacher.”

“Exactly.”

“Hmm…” Dick wasn’t exactly sure where to go with this. On the one hand, Damian was basically upset that his teacher was acting like… a teacher. On the other, Dick could count on one hand the number of adults that Damian completely respected and willingly listened to. And he didn’t need all of his fingers.

“Well, Damian, what do _you_ think should be done about this?”

Put the power in the patient’s hands. That was good. He could do this for a living.

“You could convince Father to pull me out of school, since I doubt any other teacher would be better.”

“Dami!” He wasn’t whining. He wasn’t. “Don’t you feel like school is… enriching your life?” he asked, a little desperately.

Damian opened his eyes and shot him a look he normally gave Tim or Jason when Tim or Jason was acting too much like Tim or Jason.

( _Huh. I didn’t know he had one of those for me.)_

He was a little flattered, in a weird way.

“No enrichment, then.”

“It’s a waste of time, Grayson. I told you that.”

“Okay. But…” Oh! This was perfect. He didn’t know why he hadn’t thought of this before! “Have you ever thought of school, maybe like a-“

“Okay, this is just getting sad, which is saying a lot because everything you do is sad.”

Dick gaped. He could not believe this. “Jason! We’re in the middle of something! We’re making real progress here! I’m actually pretty sure we’re on the verge of a breakthrough-“

“Blah, blah, blah. It’s my turn. Leave.”

“I’m not done, Jason.”

“I will pick you up and carry out. I’m bigger than you.”

Dick snorted. “So? You think I can’t avoid you?”

“If the two of you are going to do this, I’m leaving.”

“No, you’re staying. Dick’s leaving. Leave.”

Dick gaped. He could not believe this. “Jason!”

Jason shrugged, unrepentant. “I’ve actually got serious stuff to talk about. Life changing stuff. I’m going to turn Damian around, Dick.”

“Good luck,” Damian snorted.

Dick looked between the two of them and threw his hands up in the air, stalking out of the room. “Thanks a lot, Jason.”

“You’re welcome.”

( _Little brothers.)_

* * *

 

Jason dropped down into the chair Dick had been occupying and stared at Damian.

“Are you going to make me lie down as well?”

“No, I’m not a weirdo.”

“Tt. That’s untrue.”

Jason rolled his eyes as Damian sat up. Then he stared at him some more. He’d suggested this mostly as a joke – as in, he hadn’t thought Dick would actually want to go through with it. Or that Bruce would actually let them. He didn’t have anything prepared.

“Are we just going to sit in silence?”

( _Eh. I can wing it.)_

“Miss the sound of my voice?”

“Getting tired of looking at your face,” he shot back.

Jason grinned. The kid was a brat, but he was kind of great.

Except, you know.

He was a brat.

“You know, you’re a little brat.”

“That’s certainly helpful. Tell me more.”

He snorted. “No, seriously. You’re a little brat and you steal people’s sandwiches.”

Damian glared. “It was my sandwich!”

“And then you threw it at me, and it was mine! That’s how this works. But because you’re a brat, you don’t understand the simple rules of throwing things at people and transferring ownership. And you don’t have any friends – because you steal their sandwiches. Probably through misleading truces wherein you agree to attack a third individual with said sandwich.”

Damian glared. “I’m as upset about missing an opportunity to attack Drake as you are – probably more-“

“Definitely more.”

“But it was about the principle of the matter!”

“The principle was that you threw it at me so it was my sandwich and I only gave it back to you on the terms that you were using it as a weapon.”

Damian rolled his eyes so hard it had to hurt. “Are you really that upset about the stupid sandwich, Todd?”

No.

Well, maybe a little.

All he wanted was one or two sandwiches. The real problem here was that Damian didn’t know how to share.

“Well, you know, sometimes, it’d be nice if you just shared your sandwiches with me!”

Jason’s phone started vibrating in his pocket.

“Fine! You can have some of my sandwiches next time!”

“No take-backs!” Jason cried, pointing at Damian.

“Agreed!”            

Jason narrowed his eyes. “Hold on. I gotta’ take this.” He grabbed his phone and frowned at the caller ID. “What, Tim?”

“Honestly? I just called to tell you that you’re pathetic and this is embarrassing me. It’s actually hard to watch. So, if you could just, stop, please. Because you’re obviously not better than this, but _I’m_ better than this and I don’t want to have to watch this anymore.”

Jason rolled his eyes. “How is it pathetic if I got him to agree to giving me sandwiches?”

Damian shot him a sneer, which Jason returned readily.

Tim sighed; it wasn’t hard for Jason to picture the disdainful expression on his face. “If you can’t figure that out, you don’t deserve to know.”

“You don’t deserve to know.”

Again, it was easy for Jason to picture Tim’s expression, even with the lack of an accompanying sound.

Jason sucked in a breath and clicked his tongue. “Yeah, let’s just skip over that one.”

“Let’s. Now, if you’re done here – and you’re definitely done here – Cass wants her turn.”

“Right.”

Jason hung up the phone and stood from his chair. He didn’t mind leaving. He’d gotten less time than Dick, but he’d also achieved more: sandwiches.

“Good talk, Babybat.”

Damian shot him an incredulous look. “You just extorted sandwiches from me.”

( _Exactly.)_

“With guilt,” Jason countered. “That means you have a heart. You’re almost like a real boy.”

Damian snarled. “I _will_ kill you.”

Jason smirked and ruffled Damian’s hair, dodging away before Damian could swat at him – because his swatting was really more like clawing.

“Go away, Todd!”

Jason cackled as he walked out the room. “I still got the sandwiches!”

“Shut up!”

* * *

 

Cass smiled as she walked into the room.

“Cain.” Damian eyed her carefully. Suspicious. Exasperated. Waiting. 

She laughed under her breath and knelt down in front of him.

More suspicious now. Wary.

But her little brother was cute when he glared.

“Cain. What are you doing.”

She wrapped her arms around him and pulled him close, laughing to herself silently.

Dick would be jealous he hadn’t thought if it and used the entire thing as an excuse to cuddle; Dick liked cuddles.

So, did Damian, though he pretended he didn’t.

He was stiff. Awkward. Uncomfortable.

“Cain. Stop. You’re not Grayson.”

She hugged him tighter.

“This is ridiculous! I demand you stop.”

Still stiff, awkward, uncomfortable.

She held him until he wasn’t. Until he hugged her back.

Grudging. But calm. Relaxed.

That was good. It was better when he was relaxed.

She squeezed him just a little bit tighter before pulling away, smiling at him. He was blushing. It was sweet.

“You’re a good little brother, Dami.”

Confused. Shy. Embarrassed. Pleased. Pretending not to be.

He should know better with her. But he could be silly sometimes.

She stood up and patted his head fondly. “Bye, Dami.”

He grumbled under his breath and avoided making eye contact. “Goodbye, Cain.”

She laughed as she walked out.

( _Hugs are good therapy.)_

* * *

 

“Not you,” Damian groaned.

“I would be insulted, but I know you’re only saying that to maintain your façade of dislike,” Steph said, stepping into the library with a grin.

“Go away, Brown.”

“Hey, I’m going to help you turn your life around. Trust me.”

“I don’t.”

She rolled her eyes and then dimmed the lights in the room.

“What are you doing?”

“Creating an atmosphere. It’s important. Sit on the floor.”

“No.”

“Oh, my gosh, why are you so stubborn?” She exclaimed. “Just- sit. The more you cooperate, the faster this will be over.”

He glared at her like he didn’t believe her, but he sat down on the floor anyone.

( _Good. Step 1 complete.)_

“All right, now, we’re going to light this incense.”

“What.”

She could sense Jason’s mocking laughter and Tim’s judgmental eyeroll from here. She didn’t need it from Damian too.

Did he care?

No.

She set up her incense in a circle around herself and Damian, lighting them all before sitting cross-legged in front of Damian.

“Is this some sort of airborne poison?”

“Then, I’d be killing myself too.” She held up a hand. “Don’t. Just- whatever you’re about to say, don’t say it. Because we’re about to do something amazing.”

Dubious contempt. Better than she’d expected.

She breathed in and out deeply, shaking out her shoulders. “Okay. Sit like me. Come on.”

He followed her instructions relunctantly, glaring at her the whole time. “This is some sort of ridiculous prank, isn’t it?”

“Oh, my gosh. Christmas was like, weeks ago. Can we not?”

“No.”

“That’s understandable,” she said with a nod. “Now, hold my hands.”

He eyed her skeptically.

She sighed. “I don’t have cooties, Damian!”

“ _What_ are ‘cooties’?”

She stared at him despairingly. He just made it so easy. But she couldn’t. Not because she didn’t want to – she really wanted to – she really, really wanted to – but Dick was watching and he had also become her conscience whenever she talked to Damian.

It wasn’t pleasant, and she fully blamed Dick for the entire situation. And it _was_ his fault. He’d spent an hour a day silently watching her with a look of overwhelming disappointment. Every day. For a week.

After the blackmail photos!

It had been a really hard time for her.

“It’s a stupid joke, Dami.”

He sniffed. “Well, obviously, if you’re telling it.”

She rolled her eyes.

( _Brat.)_

“Just hold my hands!”

He sighed like this was the hardest thing anyone had ever asked him to do – FYI: it wasn’t – but grabbed both of her hands obligingly.

“Okay. Now, we’re going to meditate.”

“This isn’t how you meditate, Brown.”

“It’s a special kind of meditation, Damian,” she asserted. “I’m going to take you on a journey through your mind to change your perspective on life.”

He was looking at her like a wackjob, which wasn’t fair because he knew _reall_ wackjobs. “You can’t be serious.”

“I am! So, serious. And this stuff actually works. So just, close your eyes and focus on my voice.”

“Do I have to?”

“Oh, my gosh, Damian, just do it!”

He heaved another sigh, but closed his eyes.

( _Good. Step 2 completed.)_

Only, now she was winging it.

Because she didn’t have any idea what she was talking about. And she wasn’t entirely sure it would work for Damian, even if she did know what she was doing. Except she didn’t know what she was doing, so that wasn’t even a hypothetical she should be considering.

She could do yoga.

She could fight bad guys.

Meditative, mindset shifting, quasi-hypnosis?

Yeah.

Not her gift.

But she couldn’t just let Jason show her up!

Sandwiches, man. That had been great.

“What next, Brown?”

“Keep your eye closed. And just… focus on my voice. It’s all about visualization. Um… Think of your teacher. Ms. Andrews. Ms. Andrews is a woman. Your teacher. And you don’t like her. Probably because she smiles a lot and deep down that display of emotions threatens you for as of yet unresolved traumas. I don’t know how you get along with Dick-”

“Brown-”

“Shh!” Steph cleared her throat and took another deep breath. “Ms. Andrews. You don’t like her. A lot of hostility. A lot of animosity. A lot of contempt. Just a lot of negative feelings. And you’d think you wouldn’t have any left what with all the hitting villains and also Tim. Those should be good outlets. But you still have more. So, it’s kind of like you stockpile negativity. And, in the long run, that’s not healthy. Just look at Bruce! He’s-“

“Brown-“

“Shhhhh! You stockpile negativity and when you’re done with villains and also Tim, you direct what’s left at your teacher. And the general population. You have a lot of negative feelings about people as a whole. That is also not healthy. All of the negative feeling you possess will just fester and fester and fester and finally boil over and-“

“Brown-“

“Shhhhhhhhhhh! Negative feelings. Towards Ms. Andrews. What you need to do is take all of those negative feelings and concentrate on them. Meditate on them. And once you have a good grasp on those feelings, I want you to take them, and I want you to shove them in a box. A box that’s more well-protected than the Bat-cave. This box is the most well protected box ever. In the whole world. In all the worlds. And now, all of your negative feelings are locked away in the box and it’s locked and you can’t reach them because you don’t remember the code and you threw the box in the ocean where you’ll never find it again and now you have no more negative feelings towards Ms. Andrews and the next time you go to school, you’ll like her.”

“Brown.”

“Yes, Dami?”

“You have no idea what you’re doing, do you?” He opened his eyes and stared at her expectantly.

“That’s offensive.”

“Because it’s true?”

“Because it’s mean! I’m trying to help you and you’re questioning me.”

He stared at her blankly.

She sighed. “This wasn’t better than the sandwiches.”

“You’re insane.”

“But you are too, so you can’t _really_ hold it against me,” she said with a grin. She let go of his hands and stood up, stretching. “Now, help me gather up my incense. I can’t believe I wasted these on you.”

“You’re an idiot.”

“Eh,” she shrugged. “But you bought it for a second, didn’t you?”

“Not on your life, Brown.”

“Maybe on Tim’s life, though, right?” she asked with a grin.

He tilted his head, conceding.

“I knew it,” she laughed.

* * *

 

Tim walked into the library with about as much enthusiasm as someone walking to their death. Maybe less.

It was really his own fault though. He went along with Jason’s schemes once, twice, and now Jason had all these _expectations_.

Tim really should have known better.

He pushed open the door, meeting Damian’s glare with a roll of his eyes.

“I don’t want to be here anymore than you do. Trust me.”

“Then let’s get this over with. What ludicrous idea have you come up with, Drake?”

Tim smirked. “I made a power point that illustrates all of your problems; I’ve had it for a while actually.”

Damian scoffed, leaning back into the couch and crossing his arms. “I’m sure it’s just as boring as you are.”

Tim sat down in the chair across from Damian. “Aren’t you a little too narcissistic to think a power point about you is boring?”

Narcissism wasn’t actually one of Damian’s near endless problems that Tim had listed in the power point.

Did Tim _care_ about being perfectly factual at this moment?

No.

Talking to Damian sometimes required sacrifices. He was willing to make those sacrifices.

Whenever he couldn’t avoid talking to Damian in the first place.

Damian sneered. “You can make anything boring, Drake. It’s your only talent.”

“And what are your talents?” Tim drawled. “Causing chaos? Inciting fear amongst your classmates and innocent elementary school teachers?”

“Do you have anything useful to contribute, Drake?” Damian asked with a glare.

( _Glaring. Wow. That’s new. Not predictable or anything.)_

“Everything I do is useful. But, you know, I’d been think for a while that you needed therapy. I can’t believe it was Jason who actually got this to happen.”

“Maybe people value what Todd has to say more than you. Ever think of that, Drake?”

Tim cocked his head with a smirk. “Are you saying you value Jason? I was about to say I can’t wait to tell him, but he can already hear it for himself. I’m sure he’s glowing at the compliment.”

“I said people value what he has to say more than _you._ That’s not saying much, Drake,” Damian retorted snidely.

“Fair point,” Tim acknowledged with a hum.

Damian gawked. “What?”

Tim raised an eyebrow. “Do you think I live to insult you or something? I don’t care that much.”

Had Tim set that insult up on purpose?

Yes.

Did that directly contradict what he had just said?

Yes.

Was Damian going to find that out?

No. Not ever.

Damian snorted. “You do know this is pointless, don’t you?”

“Obviously. We don’t _talk_ out our problems. Healthy people and Dick do that.”

He and Damian stared each other briefly.

“… I can beat you in a fight – Bo staffs.”

Tim scoffed. “1: Wow, that’s arrogant. But not surprising. 2: Physical ‘therapy’ is the best idea I’ve heard all day.”

“Is that a compliment, Drake?”

Tim smirked, standing from his chair. “I said it was the best idea I’d hear all day. That’s not saying much.”

“Tt.” Damian stood up and walked out of his room, clearly suppressing his own smirk.

Tim wondered if Dick would be horrified or pleased with this outcome.

( _Probably a little bit of both.)_

* * *

 

“Are you planning on sitting here all night?”

Grayson looked over his shoulder at him with a slight grin. “Why not? It’s the best seat in the house?”

Damian rolled his eyes. “We have places to be.”

Grayson’s grin only grew as stood from his crouch and leapt onto the rooftop from his perch on the gargoyle. “Yeah, but, I was just thinking.”

He sounded a bit too enthusiastic.

Damian raised an eyebrow warily. “What?”

“What if,” Grayson began, a bit breathlessly, “you thought of school as a mission? You know what I mean? You don’t necessarily like it and you have to put up with people you don’t like, but it’s something you have to get done, you know?”

Grayson looked ridiculously hopeful, even from behind the mask.

“Don’t be stupid, Nightwing. Today was a huge waste of time, which only goes to prove that school is pointless and leads to even more pointless activities.”

Grayson looked a little heartbroken. Which was awkward. And pathetic. And made Damian feel a little bit guilty because Grayson’s heartbroken face made it look like Damian had just kicked his puppy. Or like he was the puppy who had been kicked.

And Damian didn’t condone animal abuse.

He heaved a sigh and patted Grayson on the shoulder in what he hoped was a vaguely comforting but perfunctory manner.

“You tried, Gr- Nightwing. Granted, you were hoping to achieve foolish aims and you clearly failed, but you did try.”

Grayson grimaced slightly before huffing out a laugh. “Thanks, Robin. Now, let’s repress my, apparently, abysmal failure and go hit people.”

Damian nodded, smirking slightly. “Let’s. And convince Father to pull me out of school when we get home, will you?”

“Not a chance,” Grayson said, shaking his head with a bright smile. “I still have hope.”

Damian snorted and rolled his eyes.

( _Ridiculous.)_


End file.
